


And after the world ends, there are some firsts

by Dareandwriteit



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alcohol, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Post canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-12-18 07:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11869152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dareandwriteit/pseuds/Dareandwriteit
Summary: A series of firsts for a little boy who survived the end of the world.





	1. The First Wake Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> Another collection of Angus stories. Feel free to request people to write about, I wanna do them ALL.

“We did it!”

They did. As crazy as it was to think, they really did. Angus was up on Magnus’ shoulders, yelling it to everyone, anyone who could hear. We made it. We did it. We lived. 

It wasn’t really his fault. The sheer relief was dizzying. It wasn’t as though he suddenly felt faint. Blood loss was funny thing, in a way. It didn’t _hurt_ so much as… just happen. An after thought for a fight that everyone else had moved beyond. He removed the arrow from the back of his left shoulder mid battle, struggling to disentangle the bolt from his thick tweed cape: his proper detective’s cape now shredded beyond saving. It hadn’t hurt. Well, no, that wasn’t quite honest, it hadn’t hurt as much as it was probably supposed to. There had been so much else that needed doing Angus didn’t think about it.

He had been watching Lup in the center of the crowd, floating high above the bonfire that had been piled in the center of town. Dozens of people, of every race and kind, were sat around it with rapt enjoyment on their faces. She was telling stories of the Bureau of Balance, Taako floating beside her in a casual pose. The Voidfish had shared a lot about their lives, more than anybody even thought they had in their lives, but it hadn’t shared everything. Not Lucas’ lab, or the Rockport Limited, or Goldcliff races or anything that the Reclaimers had done in the past year. She had seen a surprising amount from inside Taako’s umbrella, and told the story well. Taako would interrupt and criticise and correct her often, but it wasn’t harsh. Not like he’d been before today, there was something softer in his needling.

Angus thought this was what it must be like to have a sibling.

Angus had sat away from the group, not wanting to intrude. There was a lot to talk about, to reminisce, to mourn. Angus couldn’t hope to understand it. Seeing people talk about rebuilding, and funerals, and weddings, and reuniting families. Angus had nothing to do with these. No home to rebuild, no family to lose or gain. He knew when he wasn’t needed.

He sat back and leaned against a wall half crumbled from the battle. He put pressure against the ache in his shoulder that was growing from a dull growl to a large roar. The warm glow of the bon fire, streaked with white and blue and pink as the silhouette floating above gestured with her wild stories. The silhouette grew blurred and warped against the bright lights of the fire, as Angus let his mind wander over what Lup must have looked like when she was alive. He bet she was transcendent even then.

* * *

“Hey Ango, you been partying too hard?”

“Ango?”

“Angus. Look at me.”

“Merle! I need help over here!”

* * *

Angus woke looking into the feathered armour of Magnus Burnsides, the quills tickling at his face uncomfortably. Angus tried to push himself up, but wilted as pain flourished from his left side. He instinctively grabbed at the injury, meeting crisp and clean bandages with his right hand. Magnus’ arms wrapped tighter around Angus at the movement, Magnus burying his face into Angus’ shoulder as he hugged the boy.

“Don’t. Don’t do that again.”

“S-sir?” Angus’ voice was heavily muffled by Magnus’ hug.

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt, dummy? You’re supposed to be the smart one.”

“I-I-I didn’t, I wasn’t-”

“That wall was red.” Magnus said, in a quiet voice. 

“Sir?”

“It was supposed to be brown. You made the wall red.” Magnus was whispering.

“Oh…” Angus said, running his fingers along Magnus’ arm. The scars felt like stitches in a well worn overcoat, with a familiar story behind every one.

“Merle took the rest of the crossbow bolt out. Said there were a buncha pieces that broke off when you _pulled a goddamn weapon out of your shoulder _, Angus, just what the hell were you thinking?”__

__Angus pulled out of the hug, still held up Magnus’ arms as he tried to defend himself. “I didn’t want to get in trouble! We needed the healers for people who were really hurt, and there weren’t enough spell slots for a silly little little-”_ _

__“Severe impalings? Ango, if I hadn’t come over to talk to you, there wouldn’t be… you!”_ _

__“Please don’t exaggerate Sir.” Angus said, seriously._ _

__“You could have died.” Magnus replied just as seriously._ _

__“No, I-”_ _

__“Yes. A lot of people died today Ango. We lost a lot. And it could’ve been you.” Magnus’ voice wavered. “You still got my grandpa’s knife?”_ _

__“Oh yes, Sir, it’s right here.” Angus patted around in his pockets quickly, but Magnus placed a hand over Angus’._ _

__“Keep it.”_ _

__“B-but it’s yours sir! It’s got your name on it.” Angus said, holding the thick wooden handle up to Magnus’ eye. Magnus stared at it with squinted eyes._ _

__“Hmmm… That’s interesting.”_ _

__“What? What? I didn’t break it did I?” Angus said, looking at it closely._ _

__“Pretty sure this doesn’t say ‘Magnus’. It says ‘Burnsides’ right here, see?” Magnus said._ _

__“I don’t understand Sir?”_ _

__“You’re a Burnsides, aren’t ya?” Magnus said, with a goofy smile._ _

__“No, I’m a McDonald.” Angus said, in a dour tone. There was a long, long pause as Magnus waggled his eyebrows at Angus. “Oh. Oh! Sir, do you mean it?!”_ _

__“Of course I mean it. Have I ever lied to you?”_ _

__“Well-” Angus raised an eyebrow._ _

__“Being a Burnsides is pretty great!” Magnus spoke over Angus, shaking him side to side in a rapturous hug. “It’ll be even better now you’re one. You even have a scar like one.”_ _

__Angus ran a finger a long Angus’ shoulder where the scar was. It tickled, and it made Angus giggle. Even wrapped tight in Magnus’ arms, Angus could swear he felt Magnus smile._ _

__It was the first wake up call Angus had after the world had ended, in more ways than one._ _


	2. The First Home Cooked Meal

Angus found himself smiling at the sound of Lup tapping her fingernails against the counter in a complicated pattern and whistled a tune. At the sound of her soft footfalls against the laminate floor, even at the sound of her uncomfortable groans as she stretched.

Lup had gotten her body back the day before, and had made a big show out of showing it off. She’d gotten flashy clothes and kicked doors open as a way of announcing her return to the world of tangibility. Taako had hugged her tight for minutes upon minutes, and didn’t let go of her hand once during the night. He’d even cried, not that he would have admitted it.

But that was yesterday. Today was a different kind of celebration.

“Urgh…. There’s too many choices!” Lup moaned, leaning across the counter.

Angus didn’t look up from his book. Lup made another groan, and held it as she slowly leaned over to poke Angus in the cheek. Angus tried not to laugh, but the intense look of concentration on Lup’s face as she pushed her fingertip slowly into his dimples made it hard not to.

“Hey. Hey boy wonder. What d’ya want? What’s good “gettin’ my groove back” food?” She asked, cocking her head to the side to see around his book.

“Oh, I’m sure whatever you make will be lovely ma’am!” Angus said, placing his book down after carefully placing his pressed flower bookmark in it.

“Well, duh. Everything I make is _lovely_ shortstack. I wanna make something kickass! Lup breaks back into the world of cooking? I’ve got to go big. What’s your favourite? Fancy boy like you probably has steak with foie gras for breakfast.”

Angus nervously folded the corner of the page of his book back and forth. “Why don’t you make what you like, ma’am? It’s your first meal after all.”

Lup frowned, and stood up straight, folding her arms in mock seriousness. “C’mon man, you’ve gotta like some food. What’s a home cooked meal you like? I won’t make fun of you if it sucks, not too much anyway.”

Angus was playing with the pages enough that he risked tearing a hole in them. “I, uh, never really had a home cooked meal before? I didn’t-”

Lup slammed her hand onto Angus’ book, and slid it off the counter. Before Angus could say anything, she handed him a knife.

“Ma’am?”

Lup placed a board in front of Angus, and dumped a small pile of vegetables on it. “You’re my sous chef. We’re making you the good shit, and the good shit becomes the best shit when you make it yourself.”

Angus took the hint, quickly taking a moment to put his book away and wash his hands, before heading up to the counter and realising he was several inches too short without a chair.

“I gotcha.” Lup said without having turn away from the pot she was placing on the hob, and waved a hand in Angus’ direction. He levitated a few inches up in the air quite suddenly, having to push his glasses back up his nose.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“As sweet as it is to be called ma’am, I’m not the queen little dude. How many times have I got to tell you to call me Lup?” Lup said, setting out her own chopping board next to the hob. The two weren’t facing each other, working on worktops that left them back to back, and Angus was slightly relieved. Lup was cool, but she was intimidatingly so. Even in a tangible body, there was something raw and powerful in her that Angus was a little scared by.

Rather than think about it, he picked up a carrot and began to chop. They worked quietly for a while, the only sound the gentle chop, chop, chop of them dicing their ingredients.

“So how have you never had a home cooked meal? You were living with Taako for the best part of a year. Fucker can’t go two seconds without showing off his food.” Lup said suddenly, surprising Angus.

“He did! He made me macaroons!” Angus insisted, sawing away at a tough part of the carrot.

Lup sneered. “Those things? He only makes those when he’s drunk off his ass. I mean real food.”

“Well, he told me he doesn’t cook so much anymore.” Angus said, quietly.

“I noticed. Any idea why?” Lup asked.

“He said he cooked stuff that made people not so… alive anymore.” 

“Got any more details for me?”

“I swear that’s all he told me.”

“I know.” Lup chopped down hard against the board. “That’s not what I asked you.”

Angus slowed his chopping down, as he thought about what he should say. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Lup said, softly. She still didn’t turn away from her work.

“It was in Glamour Springs. He did his show- Sizzle it Up with Taako? And he messed up a transmutation spell. And well…” Angus hesitated. “Forty innocent people got poisoned. He ran away not long after.”

“Is that it?” Lup asked impassively.

Angus didn’t know how to respond. He managed a shaky “uh huh” as he picked up a piece of celery to chop.

“You believe them?” Lup asked.

“Ma’am- Lup, they saw him do it, I couldn’t prove it was anyone but him. They saw him do it, I know you love your brother, but I-”

“What if I saw someone else do it?” Lup said, with an upbeat tone.

“B-but, how could you-?”

“Interesting thing about being in the umbrella Taako was dragging around this whole time. I saw some bits of what he was up to. Lots of it was weird Taako shit I didn’t want to see, sure, but I saw something I sure as shit needed to see.”

“But Taako didn’t find his-your umbrella until a long time after the Glamour Springs.” Angus asked, putting his knife down.

“But! I was right there in his hand when the time cup showed him it again.” Lup said.

“Do you mean the Temporal Chalice?” Angus asked, turning to her.

Lup turned around, eyebrow raised. “Magnus made the thing. You think he called it “the temporal chalice”?”

Angus nodded, understanding completely. They both turned back to the prep and continued chopping.

“I saw a lot of it. The show was showy crap, the food used too much garlic if you ask me. But most of all I saw someone I need you to track down.” Lup poured the meat she had been chopping into the pot carefully.

“Track down?”

“You’re a detective right? So, go detect him. Find me a shithead named Sazed who’s a bit handy with arsenic.” Lup said, placing her chopping board in the sink along with her knife.

“So Sazed framed Taako?” Angus asked, chopping through the rest of his vegetables in a careful measured rhythm. “What are going to do when you find him?”

Lup turned back to Angus, and clicked her fingers. Tall purple flames erupted beneath the pot, licking up the sides of it in a wild explosion.

“Talk to him.”

Angus finished chopping up the large of vegetables and carefully handed the board full of them to Lup. “I’ll do my best, ma’am- I mean, Lup.”

“It’s all I expect, baby.” She said, dumping the ingredients into the pot. “And it’s all you’ll get from me.”

She was right. The soup was pretty damn perfect.

It was equal parts the best home cooked meal Angus had ever had and the best payment for detective work that Angus ever got.


	3. The First (Real) Wand

Angus blinked the stars that flickered in front of him away. He sat up slowly, cursing as he gingerly touched at the back of his head and felt a bruise forming beneath his hair. He took a deep breath and counted to five. Then he looked for his wand.

He found the small sparkling star with a fragment of the wand still attached on the floor next to him. A few loose scraps of spellotape were still hanging off it, pieces that Angus had replaced several times since his wand had first broken. It had been back on the day Story and Song, just before Lup had been released from the umbrella. Angus had been glad it happened: if he hadn’t had to borrow the umbrella, Lup would never have been revealed to them. 

But he still needed a wand.

Angus had made do, just wrapping his wand in copious amounts of tape. On the day of the battle, it had been enough. The wand was dangerous, but that was what was needed in the fight. 

It had been a few weeks, and it was only getting worse. The wand would backfire, as it had today, sending Angus flying back. Spells would fizzle out, or use more spell slots than they needed, or simply not work. Angus was just kind of used to it.

“You alright there Angus?” A hand was offered to Angus, helping him up. Angus took the hand, and could tell from the many brightly coloured plasters over the fingers that it was Barry. He kept forgetting he had a body, and getting paper cuts or trapping his fingers in cupboards. He would complain about every little cut, and Lup would give him plasters with cartoons on them because “he was being a little butt baby about it.”

“Oh, yes Sir. Just a little accident with my wand. Have you seen-?” Angus held up the fragment he had, looking around the rest of it.

“Angus. My man. That can’t be your wand.” Barry frowned, crossing his arms.

“Well, it’s _half_ of my wand.” Angus said, in a sarcastic voice. He kept looking for the wand shards on the floor, not stopping until Barry placed a hand on his head.

“What the hell happened to your wand?”

“It got broken.” Angus said, not looking up from his search.

Barry rolled his eyes. “Well, I guessed that. How’d it get broken?”

“When that big hand hit me in the moon base? And I had to borrow the umbrella, and then Miss Lup got me to do a fireball-”

Barry interrupted. “Wait, wait, wait. Your wand has been broken for months and you didn’t say anything?”

“It still works fine Sir!” Angus said chirpily.

“What pieces you still have…” Barry muttered under his breath, before realising something with such a start his glasses slipped on his nose. “Wait, you were in that big battle with a broken wand?”

“Yessir.” Angus said, still not looking up from his search.

“You survived a fight with The Hunger, with a broken wand and no weapons.”

“Got it in one.” Angus said, lifting up a small shard he found beneath the table and placing it in his cupped hand.

“You’re eight-”

“Eleven.” Angus interrupted patiently.

“Right, right. Eleven. What the hell Angus? Why didn’t you try and stay safe or something?”

Angus stopped searching and looked Barry in the eye. “How could I?”

Barry gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?”

“How could I just hide, when there were so many people in danger?”

“You’re a kid, Angus, we wouldn’t have-”

“I’m a detective first and foremost Sir. My job is helping people. So I helped. How could I do anything else? I couldn’t sit and there and let other people get hurt. It’s not… It’s not what a detective would do.”

Angus wiped at his face with his sleeve. He wasn’t crying. He definitely wasn’t crying. Barry was very quiet for a moment.

“Yeah. I get that.”

Another moment of quiet passed.

“I think I owe you a eleventh birthday present.”

* * *

The trip into Neverwinter was a little awkward at first. Neither Barry nor Angus were natural conversationalists, and they were a little raw from their talk about the day of Story and Song. Barry had yet to catch up on much of the culture or even basic contents of this world, having spent six years as a frantic lich tracking down his crew mates. Angus would suggest a book or piece of music to talk about, and Barry would nervously say he’d add it to the list of things he needed to catch up on.

It was hard not to draw attention as they entered _“Adderwrath’s Wandery and Magical Tomfoolery”_. Barry was famous the world over, and blushed profusely as he quickly signed some random items. He declined any fantasy photos, insisting he was on errand with his… Angus.

Barry came up to the counter, quickly pushing a footstool beside him with his foot so Angus could stand at his height. A young elven woman stood behind the counter, struggling to contain her excitement at the sight of Barry.

“Hello young…” Barry peered closely at her name tag, “Petal. I’m here to buy a wand.”

“Oh, please have your choice of any-” Petal began to stutter, waving enthusiastically to the racks of wands behind her.

“Oh, no, no! It’s for Angus.” Barry went to pat Angus on the back, but misjudged and awkwardly patted his shoulder.

“Oh hello there young Sir! Is this your first wand?” Petal smiled warmly, now directing her attention to Angus. He got a little tongue tied by her sudden attention, and said nothing.

“Well, it’s quite alright Angus. You know, they say the wand chooses the wizard!” Petal said, pulling a rack down from behind her.

“No, no. Not this time. I want the wizard to chose the wand.” Barry said. “Any wand would be lucky to have him.”

It was a rather long browsing session, resulting in several backfires and a quite a bit of recoil. But Angus eventually walked out with a new wand, made of intertwined rosewood and silver with the Bureau symbol engraved in its handle. Angus even had a new lanyard, with a plaid pattern featuring the McDonald household’s colours. Barry had said how he was excited to see what good detective work it would be used for, and Angus couldn't help but agree.

Angus’ second wand was the first one that was actually his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoped you like your feature PetalSpitter!
> 
> Please feel free to request a specific character to do next: Barry was lots of fun, that awkward goof.


	4. The First Dog on the Moon

Busy became the catchphrase of the Bureau. Everyone was overwhelmingly busy. Between the schools, and the towns, and the Bureau, and a thousand different efforts to rebuild, busy was all they could be. Angus was caught up in this too, finding himself flooded with requests to help find those who had gone missing during the battle.

So they were tired. Angus had not expected magic lessons to continue. He had barely expected to find a moment with Taako, let alone actually learn anything from him. 

“Rise and shine kiddo!” Taako shouted, making Angus jolt out of his seat. The book that had been open across his lap fell to the floor with a clatter, followed by his lumpy mug he’d made at the Chug and Squeeze. 

“W-what? What happened?!” Angus shouted, scrambling to his feet.

“You’re overdue a magic lesson, that’s what.” Taako said, flipping his wand between his fingers.

“I-I’m sorry?” Angus rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake himself up.

“Jeezy creezy, you got biscuits in your ears? Magic lessons. Now. Come on.” Taako grabbed Angus’ arm, about to drag him away. Angus shrugged off his grip.

“M-maybe later Sir. I have a lot of work, and I’m real close to finding that missing halfling in Rockport, and I just don’t have enough time-”

Taako frowned.

“It’s nothing personal Sir, I promise.” Angus began to stoop down to pick up the remains to his mug, but Taako grabbed his hand again.

“Take a day off. I’m world wide celebrity now, you can’t turn me down.” Taako said this in a light hearted tone, waving his hand vaguely. Angus snatched his hand away.

“I can’t! People need me, and I need to get there in time, or they’ll be in trouble. I can’t waste any time, I just... “ Angus realised he was yelling and suddenly felt his voice falter. “Can’t.”

Taako clicked his tongue a few times, deep in thought. “So what I’m getting from this is that you need to be faster?”

“I… guess that would help?” Angus said, wrestling with the hem of his patchy sweater.

“What didn’t you just say? I’ve got just the spell for you to learn.” Taako said, waving his wand.

“What-” Angus’ question was cut off by a phantom steed rising up from the ground beneath him. He grabbed onto its mane in a panic and squeaked as the creature looked back at him with gleaming eyes beneath two piercing horns.

“Hey little dude, watch the merchandise.” Garyl said, with dull voice. Angus let go so sharply he fell clean off.

“Ango, this is Garyl. He’s a sweet as fuck binicorn and he’s my phantom steed.” Taako said, patting Garyl’s neck.

“No-one owns me, nerd boy.” Garyl said, staring down at Angus.

“Oh, whatever Garyl. Don’t make me turn you into a torso horse again. Honestly, you help me stop one apocalypse and suddenly you think you’re hot shit.” Taako said, turning to Angus.

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you Sir?” Angus said, holding out a hand to shake.

“What do you want me to do with that? It’s not like this fool gave me hands.” Garyl complained. Angus quickly got to his feet and wiped his hands down on his jumper.

“What you need is a phantom steed. Help you get better all your dumb weird jobs done.”

“Oh. Do you think I’m ready for that?” Angus asked, taking his wand off of the lanyard he had beneath his shirt.

“Eh, why not.” Taako shrugged. “You probably won’t get it right away or anything, but we’ll see.”

So they practiced together. It was a rather high level spell for Angus, unlike the cantrips he gotten used to learning from Taako. The spell took around a minute to cast, which meant an hour was spent casting with very little happening at all. Angus was about ready to give up, Taako having long since dispelled Garyl and taken to chilling in the soft armchair Angus had fallen asleep in.

When suddenly-

“Hello Sir.”

Angus was rather startled by the appearance of this voice, sure for a moment that it was another symptom of his exhaustion. It was coming from something that was definitely not a horse.

It was a dog. No, a hound. It was enormous for a dog, only a little smaller than Garyl was. He was covered in thick soft white fur around his paws and head, with smoother black fur on his body. He was also wearing a deerstalker, and speaking in monotone scottish accent. This helped a little with how terrifying he was.

“Hello. W-what’s your name?” Angus said, taking a cautious step back. The hound carefully stepped forward, and placed a soft paw on Angus’ head.

“That’s your decision Sir.” The deep voice reverberated through Angus’ bones.

“You’re... Baskerville.” Angus said, carefully taking the paw off of his head. “Why aren’t you a horse?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. I’m just the steed you needed.” Baskerville said, sitting in front of Angus.

“You’re still a steed?” Angus asked.

“The saddle and bridle isn’t quite my choice of a fashion accessory.” Baskerville said, lying low to show his plain leather saddle.

“Can I get on?” Angus asked, gingerly raising a hand to the saddle.

“I rather think that’s the point, Sir.” Baskerville said, scooting over to let Angus climb on.

He slowly climbed on, and wrapped his arms tightly around Baskerville’s neck as the dog got to it’s feet.

“Try to get comfortable Sir.” Baskerville suggested, at the feeling of Angus shifting his weight in the saddle.

After a few moments of wiggling in the saddle, Angus sat up straight, and found reins in his hand.

“What would you like to do?” Baskerville asked, his thick fluffy tail swiping side to side at the prospect of something to do with Angus.

Angus thought for a moment.

“Want to play fetch?” Angus said, smiling at Taako sleeping in his chair.

* * *

Angus was laughing enough for two on the back of Baskerville. Baskerville had his mouth full, due to the fact he was carrying Taako’s hat in his jaws. Garyll was galloping a few steps behind them, Taako and Magnus on his back. Taako was shouting to get his hat back, Magnus was hollering to pet the dog. Merle had fallen off several corners back, Garyl complaining of how dense he was before finally kicking him off.

Baskerville could climb and jump and weave between crowds of people. He never once bumped into anyone, and could leap several paces in one go. Angus was untouchable, and safe in a way he hadn’t felt safe since the day of Story and Song.

He was protected by his first pet, who happened to be the first dog on the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is self indulgent as hell, I know I said I'd do Lucretia or Davenport next but I couldn't leave this alone.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the least subtle Sherlock Holmes reference ever, ft. Taako.


	5. The First Family Portrait

There weren't many things Angus did not know about his guardians. He had learned everything, just as everyone else had, when those lights crossed the sky. And so he was left with two versions of his closest friends.

The mindless and lonely Taako was also the powerful and family driven Taako.  
The goofy and headstrong Magnus was also the stubborn and ignorant Magnus.  
The clueless and apathetic Merle was also the spiritual and influential Merle.

It was difficult to juggle those two versions of these few people Angus knew so well, though Lup, Barry and Davenport were little more than strangers to Angus before he learned who they were from the Voidfish.

None were as difficult as the Director that Angus knew, and the woman called Lucretia who Angus did not.

She had a lot to make up for. Everyone knew that, the image of the journal suspended in the Voidfish’s tank one that had stuck with Angus from being told the story. She had begun to be less distant than she had as the Director, trying to rekindle the affection she shared with her fellow crew members. She smiled more. She laughed. She told jokes in her own quiet way, and held hands and patted backs and was _friendly_.

She had begun a new project, one which was a long time in production. She would invite people into her office for several hours at a time. Each person took the request differently. Taako’s started with a shouting match, before he left tense but no longer angry. Lup left slightly teary, but smiling. Davenport came and left quietly, a serious look on his face. Barry was overheard having long and complex technical conversations with Lucretia on his way out. Merle left a bit drunk, still carrying a wine glass. Magnus left laughing, clapping his hand on her back. 

Angus had assumed that would be it, once the crew had been taken care of. But then Killian had been called in. And Leon. And Carey. And Brad. And Robbie. She slowly made her way through the Bureau’s staff, taking each of them to one side for several hours before they were sent on their way in various emotional states.

And last of all, Lucretia called Angus in.

He had worn his Sunday best, complete with his fancy boy cap. He was more nervous than he thought he would be when this came around, his fingers shaking as he tied the laces on his shoes. But he had taken a deep breath, knocked on her door, and entered.

Her office had been redesigned. The desk had been moved to one side. And in its place, there was an easel, with it’s canvas set up in landscape. Lucretia stood behind it, a red handkerchief tied around her head to cover her short white hair. She looked… younger. She was wearing baggy jeans and an oversized shirt that said “I DO WORDS GOOD” beneath a dozen splashes of paint.

“Hello Angus. Would you like to take a seat?” She asked, indicating the wooden stool opposite her. Angus silently went and perched on the seat.

“Thank you ma’am.” Angus said, forcing himself to adopt as relaxed a pose as he could.

“Please, Angus, call me Lucretia.” Lucretia said, placing some deep pinks and browns on her palette.

“That’s okay, ma’am.” Angus said this with more conviction than he thought he had. He tried not to take too much notice of the disappointment on her face as she mixed the colours.

“If you could just sit with your-” Lucretia looked up from her palate and was surprised. “Oh. I see you know the ideal portrait pose already.”

“Yes ma’am.” Angus said, keeping his head high and steady. 

“I suppose your detective work has given you a lot of insight into these things.” She said, beginning to paint on a small section of the canvas.

“No, I’ve sat for portraits before ma’am.”

“I didn’t know that about you Angus.” Lucretia said softly. “I’d love to see them.”

“You wouldn’t.” Angus said absently, trying not to think about hours spent posing at the side of people he’d rather forget.

Lucretia nodded knowingly, concentrating on sketching on top of the skin colour. They sat there like that in silence for what must have been an hour at the least, before Lucretia finally worked up the nerve to say what she needed to.

“I feel as though I owe you an apology.”

“You really don’t ma’am.”

“Or at the very least an explanation.”

“I understand why you did what you did. It’s motivation, it’s something I’m very good with because I’m a detective? You don’t need to.”

“Angus. It’s alright to be angry. What I did…” Lucretia’s breath caught, and the movement of her brush stopped. She took a deep breath, and continued. “What I did would have hurt this world, hurt _you_ beyond what anyone-”

“It wouldn’t.” Angus interrupted.

“I’m sorry?” Lucretia asked.

“There were two choices. You wanted to cut the bonds surrounding this world, which would have been dreadful. They wanted to run. And… it sounds selfish…” Angus felt his voice tremble as this terrible confession rolled off his tongue in a constant stream, and he wondered if he was under zone of truth and didn’t realise it and…

“You wanted us to stay.” Lucretia said, in a warm voice that suggested she really did understand what he meant.

“They were the only bonds I had. And, and I didn’t want to lose them! I-If you didn’t figure out how to cut off the hunger, you would have left me behind. And without you here, I wouldn’t… I couldn’t…”

“Hold the pose please Angus.” Lucretia interrupted in a soft voice, raising a hand to indicate he should raise his head. With this instruction, Angus sat up straighter and breathed deep. It helped somewhat.

“If you’ll allow me to say my piece?” She asked, working away at her picture. Angus gave a mute nod, and was a met by a hand signal to try stay still.

“You shouldn’t feel bad for wanting us to stay Angus.”

“But I-”

Lucretia refused to let him continue. “You shouldn’t. That decision should never have been brought to you. And no matter what could have happened, we wouldn’t have wanted to leave you. Never. Angus, you wanted us to stay because you value your bonds to us. But bonds aren’t one way, they’re threads. Strings with a beginning and end. And we value our connections to you every bit as much, if not more.”

Lucretia wiped at her face, smearing paint across her cheek.

“Of everyone that I have owed apologies to, you are the one that has been the hardest to find the right words for, my dear boy detective. You are so brilliant, I admit I forget how young you are. You’ve dealt with a hundred years of unimaginable suffering with one tenth of the experience. You are invaluable to us, to me, in a way I will never truly be able to repay. I only hope this is something of a start.”

She motioned for him to get out of his seat, and come see the picture she was working on. Angus hesitated for a moment, gripping the stool as though it would stop him from having to move. But with a second hand gesture, Angus made his way across the room to finally see the picture on the canvas.

It took his breath away.

There were dozens of people in the picture, everyone Angus knew and cared about. A beautiful image of the voidfish made the background, a complex galaxy that shined inside a thick bulb. Johan was there too, the image of the bard playing his violin within the rainbow tendrils of the voidfish. Lucretia was just off from the center, arms filled with journals and a smile on her face. Taako and Lup were there together, back to back and voguing hard. Davenport and Merle were playing cards, the hidden cards clearly visible up Merle’s sleeves. Barry was in the corner, his arms crossed and glasses reflecting a skull beneath. Killian had the robotic body of No-3113 in her arms- another posthumous inclusion, Angus noted. Carey was on Magnus’ shoulders, both of them flexing and grinning cheesily. Brad and Leon were pictured sharing a book, Leon perched on Brad’s shoulder and holding on to his ponytail to brace himself. Robbie was sat on the floor with a can of pringles held like a trophy.

And Angus was in the middle, his fancy boy cap slightly off kilter as it always was, his bow tie beginning to loosen. And he was happy. He really was.

Nothing like the tense and worried pose he had been in. Lucretia really did know him.

“So, what do you think?” She asked, trying and failing to hide her self consciousness about the painting. She always tugged at the sleeves of her clothes when she was self conscious.

Angus threaded his fingers through hers as a way of reassurance.

“It’s wonderful Lucretia.”


	6. The First Drop of Alcohol

Angus wasn’t crying. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t-

He took a deep breath.

Oh. He was crying. Damn it.

He considered just leaving. It’s not like Merle really wanted him here, especially not in this state. Chesney’s was one of Merle’s greatest sources of pride, a bustling hub for adventurers and civilians alike. Merlegarita’s were popular world wide, despite their dreadful name. Not that Angus knew that himself. He wasn’t old enough to drink yet.

Even though Merle was the first person to say he’d look the other way. Even though no-one cared if Angus tried just a sip of one.

He didn’t drink. He said it was because he wasn’t old enough.

“Face away from the bar, snot nose. You bleed on the ice trap and we’re closed for the month.” Merle grumbled, walking in from the back. He was still wearing his faded pajamas along with plush slippers, but had thrown a “Extreme Teen Adventurer's” robe on over the top. His arms were filled with the first aid kit that he’d brought up from the back.

Angus did as he was told, spinning the bar stool to face the other way. He quickly wiped at his face to remove the tears, and winced as he brushed at the cut by his elbow. Merle walked up to Angus and huffed.

“Well how the hell am I supposed to reach you up there?” He said, indicating the tall bar stool. Angus blushed, and climbed down, walking over to some sofa’s inside the bar. He sat on the floor, allowing space for Merle to squeeze past and sit on the sofa.

Merle placed the kit down in the corner of the sofa, and sat near Angus. He indicated for Angus to remove his jacket, which Angus did gingerly. He sighed.

“So how in the sam hell you’d do this?” Merle said, indicating Angus’ arm.

Angus shrugged.

“Remember I’m in charge of your stitches and I can sew some real interesting words.” Merle warned, opening the first aid kit beside him.

“A case.” Angus mumbled.

“Remind me, is ‘dumbass’ one word or two?” Merle said, testing the sewing needle against his fingertip.

“It was stupid. I was stupid. I should have figured out an exit, and I didn’t want to bother you so late at night Sir, but if I didn’t do something-”

“Guessing this was a window then?” Merle said, gently moving Angus’ arm to inspect the cut.

Angus nodded, welling up with tears as his arm stung from the movement.

“Sure it wasn’t a knife?” Merle asked, with a eyebrow raised.

“Not this time.” Angus said, quietly.

“For the love of- let me get the tweezers. Can’t have you running around full of glass.” Merle grumbled, getting up once again. He walked behind the bar and rooted around beneath the cash register.

“You want somethin’ to drink?” Merle asked.

“Water, please.” Angus asked, keeping his eye on the bar. He was scared that if he looked at his arm he’d start crying again.

“I meant stuff to help with the pain. Gin or somethin’.”

“Water. Please.” Angus repeated, a little more pointedly.

“Eh, whatever floats your boat. Huh, get it?” Merle laughed, walking back with a pair of tweezers and large bottle of high proof rum.

“I said no thank you Sir. I’m not old enough to drink.” Angus said, squirming in his seat.

“Like I give a shit kid. Just trying to help.” Merle said, sitting down and disinfecting the tweezers with the rum. “I burned my slots on the teen adventurer’s today, just tryin’ to make it less shitty for you.”

“Were they a little too extreme, Sir?” Angus asked with a nervous laugh.

“You’d know if you just took my invitation. Mavis keeps asking when you’re going to show up.” Merle raised the tweezers, and indicated for Angus to move closer. He did, tense as a coiled spring. “I’m not gonna hurt you, idiot, take a chill pill.”

Angus took a deep breath and tried to think of other things while Merle worked. Each little clink of glass dropped onto the plate was a step closer to this being over.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come to Extreme Teen Adventures Merle.” Angus said quietly.

“Like I said, it’s Mavie who wants you to come.” Merle said softly. “Though I think she deserves a reason from you.”

“I just… don’t see a point.” Angus said.

“Well fuck you too kid.” Merle said.

“No! No, not like that, Sir. We just… We worked so hard to save the world. We lost so much. And things… Things are still real bad out there.” Angus sighed, somewhat in relief as Merle set the tweezers down. “I was on this case for weeks. I worked so hard on it. And I still goofed it up. People still got hurt. I just don’t know- ow!”

Merle poured rum down Angus’ arm to disinfect the wound. It stung a lot, enough for Angus to instinctively shout, “Sir, what the fuck?!”

“Thank fuck that shut you up. Tired of listening to that bullshit.” Merle said, threading his needle with surgical thread. “Want to know what I think?”

Angus nodded, looking away as Merle began to sew up his cut.

“It’s not about getting rid of all the bad. Everything’s got bad. This booze. You don’t want to drink it. It’s bad for you, or addictive or whatever. But it stops your cuts from getting infected. It brings people in this place together just as much as it drives ‘em apart. Just because the thing’s got bad doesn’t stop it being good. You just gotta balance it out best you can. Go for the good as much as possible.” Merle finished his sewing, and leaned back admire his handiwork.

“That stitching by the way, is an example of the good. It looks fucking amazing.” Merle said, with a grin.

“Thank you sir.” Angus said, pulling his jacket back on. Merle patted Angus on the shoulder.

“Don’t walk out of here covered in blood. Trust me, the ladies are not into that unless they’re very freaky.” Merle walked back over to the bar and pulled out an Extreme Teen Adventurers jacket which he handed it to Angus.

“I expect that back at the next Adventurers meeting, next Thursday. Dry cleaned.”

“Thank you Sir.” Angus said, leaving the bar as quietly as he could manage.

He didn’t find the opened bottle of gin in the pocket until much later. Merle never asked for it back. It was something good, and bad, that Angus was glad to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the fact Avi probably gave Ango a drink at the bureau pre innoculation! Pretend Avi's a responsible adult who said no.
> 
> (Angus has a bad family history with alcohol.)
> 
> Requests for characters still open.


	7. The First Vacation

Angus had seen every corner of the world. They were pinned all over his room. A postcard with the great rolling dunes of Goldcliff, streaked with tyre tracks. A postcard of a lighthouse overlooking the still water sea, fish breaking the peaks of the waves. A postcard of the great manors of Neverwinter, with one corner torn off. (Angus claimed it was an accident, but felt better for McDonald Manor’s absence.) A postcard of many turning cogs that litter Rockport, the City of Industry underlined by winding train tracks. A postcard of Phandalin, the City of Glass turned Sapphire, gleaming a brilliant blue beneath the rays of a setting sun. A postcard of Refuge, it’s beaming townsfolk beneath a statue of Taako, Merle and Magnus which had been built within some frozen years.

You could tell they were from Davenport, and not just from the “joyfully yours” sign off. He’d drawn stink lines and moustaches on the statues of the THB from Refuge with an arrow pointing to them that said, “Who are these dorks?”

Angus was always excited to see letters from Davenport. He everyone letters, but he only sent Angus postcards, writing so small that Angus would have to use a magnifying glass to read them. He talked about languages, and customs and a million different little things he loved about this world. And somehow, he never ran out of things to tell when he came back to visit.

He gave everyone souvenirs and a thousand stories that were hard to believe but everyone did, because if anyone really did these things it was Davenport. They had all sat down for a reunion dinner at the Bureau, Davenport taking his well deserved place at the head of the table.

“But I’ve talked all evening. I need to think where I’ll go next. Angus-” Angus spluttered on his drink, “what do you suggest?”

“W-why me Sir?” Angus asked, placing his glass down and wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief. 

“Well, it’s your world Angus. Much more yours than mine, anyway. Where’s the best place you’ve been?”

“Here?” Angus suggested, relaxing at the laughter around him. But Davenport pushed on.

“No, but seriously Angus. Best holiday destination?”

“I’ve only really travelled for work, Sir, I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you.” Angus said quietly, looking into his glass as though there was suddenly something very interesting at the bottom of it. “I liked Rockport, I suppose.”

“I see.” Davenport said, a little seriously.

“I-it was quite nice there, really! And the murder mystery was what made me meet the Bureau, and it was real interesting meeting all the Tom Bodetts.” Angus said, feeling a sudden need to justify his answer.

“I see.” Davenport said again, staring quite intensely at Angus. The atmosphere was suffocating, and was only barely salvaged by Magnus trying to whip the tablecloth off without moving any of items on it. The shattered glass served as a pretty great distraction.

It didn’t distract enough for Angus to forget how Davenport remained pensive for the rest of the night. Davenport grabbed Angus’ wrist on the way out and told him one short thing.

“The helm of the Seablaster, 0600 hours tomorrow, and that is an _order_ cadet.”

Angus could do nothing but give a short sharp nod. The shock of having his wrist grabbed rendered words unthinkable. He was going to Davenport’s ship, that was a fact. Angus, for all he’d been through, was obedient to a fault under the right kind of grip. It was a hard instinct to move beyond.

Angus had shown up at 0545, with a satchel full of books on sailor’s knots and a cheat sheet of the proper names for the sides of the boat. He really looked out of place on the beach, full length trousers sweeping through the sand. He gripped so tight to the straps of his bag that his knuckles turned white. And, unsure of how exactly you ring the doorbell of a boat, Angus knocked on the bow gently.

Davenport emerged from a porthole, hair unkempt and eyes bleary.

“Good morning Sir! I came at the time you said.”

Davenport looked confused for a moment, then dragged a hand over his face slowly. “Why did I say 0600 hours… I’m always such a hardass when I’ve been drinking. Well, welcome Angus. There’s a ladder up the the deck over there.” Davenport pointed off to his right, mug of coffee spilling as he swung it around. Angus hesitated, kicking his heels in the sand. Davenport rolled his eyes. “You have permission to come aboard Angus. You really don’t need it though.”

Angus clambered up, wobbling up the rope ladder clumsily enough that Davenport was waiting for him on the deck by the time he’d gotten there. Davenport was wearing a bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, drinking coffee that smelled so strong it cut through the overwhelming smell of sea spray.

“What do you need from me, Sir- Captain?” Angus asked, stumbling on his word.

“What do I need? Oh, nothing.” Davenport said, sipping his coffee.

“N-nothing?” Angus’ voice was little more than a squeak.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Davenport concurred. “But that’s what vacations are, Ango.”

“Vacation?” Angus asked, sounding no less worried.

“Vacation. Holiday. Shore leave. You’ve got the day off at the beach, kid, enjoy it.” Davenport said with a smile.

“Good. Right. Yes. Enjoy my day off.” Angus said matter-of-factly. “How do I do that Sir?”

And Davenport laughed. And then Davenport showed him.

They walked the beach, collecting interesting shells and tracing shapes in the sand. They built a sand castle, Angus digging out the perfect trench with work worn hands. They fished (not in Taako’s style which Davenport called cheating), long fishing wire hanging from the boat side by side. They ate their fresh fish for lunch, served with lemon and crisp salad that was cool in the midday sun. They drifted around the coast aboard the Seablaster, reading books in the lazy sunlight of the afternoon. They played cards under the starlight, betting secrets and pennies as though they were more precious than gold.

Angus even had a postcard.

He sketched the Starblaster cresting the waves from the beach as Davenport sailed away to a new adventure. It was far from the prettiest one Angus had on his wall, but it was by far his favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give Angus a break 2k17.
> 
> Requests for characters are still open, though it should be known that Killian is next as per aquadrop25's request.


	8. The First Self Defence Class

Training continued as it had before. Same time each day. Arrive at the icosagon, in your training gear and having done your stretches. Even after the battle, training continued. It was familiar, the patter of fists hitting armour and of feet marching serving as the regular ticking of the Bureau’s clock.

It was nice to have something solid, something consistent that could be relied on. There weren’t many things like that after a fight that consumed so much.

It wasn’t that Angus hadn’t attended before. He had tried, many times, to join the Regulators as they rehearsed their moves. They’d laughed and patted his head and said he wasn’t quite ready to take on a fight them.

That certainly wasn’t true anymore.

Magnus and Merle still trained, with Taako rarely bothering to make the effort. If he did it was only to show off a new spell, so Angus became the “understudy wizard” for the Reclaimers. They said it was best for him to learn new spells in a real adventuring environment, with his tendency to overthink casting making his spells less effective. He was getting better at working on instinct. 

It was a double edged sword, Angus thought.

It wasn’t clear what made the atmosphere of this fight so tense: perhaps it was the early hour, or the fact that Merle was away working with the Teen Adventurers. It was 2 on 2, Angus and Magnus vs Killian and Carey. The weapons were all nerfed: foam facsimiles of Railsplitter and Killian’s crossbow. It didn’t stop Angus from getting a bruise as a foam bolt struck him in the ribs.

“Oh, unlucky Ango!” Magnus said from his spot behind him, jumping slightly as Angus made a vaguely winded sound. “You ok?”  
Angus, though bent double, raised a thumbs up. It was long before he felt the cold scaley presence of Carey’s hand on his back.

“Ah geez, do you need an ice pack or somethin’?” Carey asked, her voice soft.

“No, ma’am, it’s just a bruise.” Angus insisted, smiling at her. Killian was not far behind her, a severe look on her face.

“I think that’s as good a reason to take a break as any. I heard Lup was making pancakes down in the cafeteria, we should get down there.” Magnus said excitedly, only changing tone as Carey elbowed him in the ribs. “That is, if you feel up to it?”

“I’ll be fine Sir. Let me catch my breath, and I’ll be right there!” Angus said as brightly as he could manage.

“Okay. If you’re sure Angus.” Carey said, ruffling his hair before racing out after Magnus in a rush to get some breakfast.

Angus took a deep breath, letting the pain from his chest slowly fade. He stood up to his full height, and saw Killian standing right in front of him, face still miserable.

“Sorry about that.” Killian said.

“No, no, it’s quite alright ma’am!” Angus said.

“No, I never would’ve used a full power shot on you. It’s strange, I could swear I was aiming at Magnus.” Killian said, raising an eyebrow. Angus felt himself grow cold, and the sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

“Well, we all have off days-” Angus was cut off by Killian kneeling down and placing her hands on his shoulders.

“Angus. Don’t bullshit me on this. Why’d you jump in Magnus’ way?”

“I didn’t-” Angus began, but Killian raised her eyebrow again and Angus’ voice shrank again. “I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“No offence to the guy, but Magnus is there to get hurt. He’s a brick shithouse, you’re barely a foam pellet. You don’t need to do that.” Killian said.

“Am I just supposed to- to let him get hurt?” Angus mumbled looking down at the floor.

Killian raised Angus’ chin with her finger. “It’s not a question of letting him.”

“I don’t like... “ Angus trailed off, failing to make eye contact. “I feel… I can’t…”

Killian’s face finally began to relax, the compassion burning in her eyes spreading to warm smile she affect. She hugged Angus tight, still kneeling to his height.

“I know. I get it.”

Killian’s hair smelled of apples and ever so slightly of sweat. Angus tried to focus on that smell rather than prickling of tears in his eyes. “I really miss them.”

“We all do, bud. I still think that No 3113’s going to catch me when I fall on my ass. And not having Johan’s violin coming through the vents…” Killian sighed. “It’s hard. It’s really fucking hard.”

“Does it… does it get better?” Angus asked, playing with the plait Killian has in her hair absently.

Killian was quiet for a moment. “Yes. And no. I’ve lost a lot of partners in this job. Far too many. Before No 3113 it was Boyland. Before Boyland it was Rosen. And before that, I replaced someone else who died. It’s easy to let it overwhelm you.” She leaned back from their hug, and looked Angus in the eyes. “And that is why you need to learn to protect yourself just as much as anyone else.

“I’m sorry?” Angus asked, deeply confused.

“Losing people is hard. The hardest thing in the world. And I won’t do that to the people I love. I don’t want them to have to mourn me, anymore than I’d want to mourn them. Angus, you’re not designed to take a punch. You’ve got magic. You can create shields, and move people to safety. So focus on that. You need to stay on your feet. We’re counting on you.”

Angus nodded, quickly wiping his face to try and remove any trace of tears.

“New training regime. Just you and me. Self defence, a few basic moves.” Killain said, wiping her own face. “Looks like you need to beef up anyway.”

She poked at Angus’ arm playfully, which made him laugh. He felt a weight he didn’t know he was holding onto begin fade.

Only a beginning, but one he sorely needed.


	9. The First Theft

Angus was a good little boy. And while that was a phrase that certainly came across as embarrassing and a little gross, it was a fact. Angus was good, and he was little boy.

He was a little sick of being both. It wasn’t that he particularly disliked being either one, but it had became too much him. Angus McDonald, Good Boy Detective. 

So when Garfield the Deals Warlock had appeared from nowhere and said **”What’s shaking my good boy detective?!”** it had rubbed Angus the wrong way.

It was hard to know if Garfield leaving the moonbase was a good or bad thing. Another store, Fantasy Walmart, had moved into the space that had been occupied by Fantasy Costco for a little while. But since no-one could get the doors to stop playing _Fantasy Costco, where all your dreams come true! (Got a deal for you.) _, so no shop had managed to fully move in before all the occupants lost their minds.__

__Garfield has set up Super Fantasy Costco down outside Neverwinter, a sprawling mega mall that occupied space where old manors had been destroyed by the Hunger. The land had been so expensive it had been taken as a given that no-one would be able to afford to purchase it._ _

__Garfield had bought them all in cash._ _

__As relieving as it was to have some breathing space from Garfield, it was hard to deny that he was called a deals warlock for a good reason. He had good stock, and his deals were often weird but relied on relatively painless sacrifices. While Magnus had given up blood and hairs, Angus had only lost a broken set of glasses and some eyelashes._ _

__You couldn’t ask Garfield what they were for. He just began to laugh harder and harder until he was at such a deafening volume you were forced to leave._ _

__“I’m just browsing Sir.” Angus said, returning his focus to the bookshelf in front of him. He was hoping to find a new spell book, something to help him improve his defensive skills. It was impossible to focus with Garfield looming over him, the warlock levitating so he was just above Angus’ height._ _

__“ **Well, buy something cheapskate, this ain’t a lending library!** ” Garfield exclaimed, his loud voice making Angus wince._ _

__“Y-yes, I’m going to, once I’ve decided-” Angus said, suddenly having his hair ruffled by Garfield. His hand was somehow simultaneously hot, cold, wet and dry. Angus was so startled his words dried up in his throat._ _

__“ **Don’t sweat it little beefstake, you can’t pull one over on me, Garfield the Deals Warlock!** ”, Garfield bellowed, wiping his hand on his shirt. “ **You’re a good little flesh boy, you won’t escape my incredible merchant’s perception.** ”_ _

__Angus straightened his hair back into place, and felt his blood boiling._ _

__“I’m not such always a good boy. I-I can be bad!” Angus stamped his foot, trying to look tough as he crossed his arms._ _

__“ **Sure kid. You’re as threatening as a cream puff. Bring me your gold when you’re purveyed my services!** ” Garfield tapped Angus on the head again, and vanished in a puff citrus smelling disinfectant._ _

__Angus wasn’t sure why exactly he felt that taking something was the right decision. Or, why he thought making this wrong decision was something he wanted to do. He was a detective. He was the good guy._ _

__Maybe he just needed not to be for a little while._ _

__It wasn’t like Angus had much of a chance to do so anyway. He’d retrieved the cream puff he’d palmed from the food section from his pocket, only to find it wrapped in a piece of paper. He unrolled it as he absently mindedly took a bite from it._ _

___“I put it on your tab,  
Sincerely,  
Garfield the Deals Warlock”_

__Angus couldn’t even be bad when he tried to. It was strange that Garfield seemed to care about that stuff. It was strange that Garfield cared about anything._ _

__For some reason, it made Angus feel better about being a Good Boy Detective. If someone who cared about nothing but deals cared about him being himself, maybe himself wasn’t so bad._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suggestions still open.
> 
> (No, I don't know why I picked Garfield either. I was curious.)


	10. The First Piano Lesson

Kravitz was a nice man, Angus had been told. Taako loved him, in a way Taako didn’t really love many people. That was enough for Angus to trust him. 

Angus didn’t feel much more towards Kravitz. He didn’t know him well enough to fear him, or hate him, or love him. He trusted Kravitz to be little more than an important figure in Taako’s life, something that made his mentor happy.

There weren’t many chances to spend time with Kravitz. It wasn’t until late one night, when Angus was staying with Magnus over Candlenights, that he did. The adults had been talking over mulled wine, reminiscing over a similar snowy night around seventy eight (or seventy nine - there was some debate about that) years ago. Angus had silently slipped from his chair, taking his customary mug of hot chocolate with exactly three marshmallows with him.

Magnus’ house was welcoming in every way. Each room radiated comfort and a worn sort of familiarity. Magnus had made almost everything in the cabin himself, and the few things he hadn’t were sanded down or personalised by him. So it wasn’t so bad, finding himself alone in the study. Even without books, it felt like the place he belonged.

Angus wouldn’t sit at Magnus' desk, it would be an invasion to do so. A desk could tell you everything about a man, and Angus didn’t want to pry. So he took a seat on the stool by the wall. It was set before a wall piano, clearly a work in process. Angus sipped at his drink, running his eyes over the pencil lines and beginnings of carving. A bear was carved out of one corner in rough blocky shapes. There was overly round owl carved out of another corner. There were vague pencil lines that revealed two mongooses running together beneath the piano keys.

Angus ran his hand over the sketches of the mongooses trying to discern which was supposed to be Lup and which was Taako. He guessed the one with curlier fur was Lup, but he supposed that would be clearer once it was carved. He also peered closely at the main body of the wall piano, realising there were more faint sketches there. He placed his hot chocolate on top of the piano, trying to make out what was drawn there.

There was schnauzer with bushy whiskers, which Angus realised with a smirk matched Davenport’s moustache. It was even wearing a tag with captain’s stripes on it. The sleek cat by it’s side was the same, the Bureau’s symbol on it’s collar betraying its connection to Lucretia. There was an otter too, looking as though it was going to run down after the mongooses. It had been sketched several times, as though Magnus was trying to decide between several different animals. There was a hint of a magpie in there, as well as the faded shape of a golden retriever. Magnus had clearly not decided yet, and Angus couldn’t blame him. Angus also saw some new shapes: a beagle with a deerstalker and wide glasses, and a raven that could only be-

“What’s today’s performance?” Kravitz asked, making Angus jump in shock.

“I-I’m sorry?” Angus stuttered, turning to Kravitz. Kravitz was standing at the door, his own mug of hot chocolate cradled in his hands. He was wearing a thick grey scarf, despite the extremely warm house.

“The piano. I heard that you play?” Kravitz said, closing the door behind him and entering.

“I’m just taking lessons, Sir. I was just taking taking lessons, I mean.” Angus said, wrapping his fingers together.

“I’d love to hear you.” Kravitz said.

“Oh, no, I’m not very good Sir. I haven’t had any lessons in a long time.” Angus said, looking down at the keys.

“Why not? Looks like you have a good hand span, and your co-ordination-” Kravitz began, approaching Angus and inspecting his hands.

“Johan was teaching me.” Angus said, quietly.

“Oh.” Kravitz said. “He was the bard of the Story and Song, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.” Angus said.

“I didn’t know he was teaching you.” Kravitz said awkwardly.

“It was only little things. I can read some music, and we… we were going to learn his new song.” Angus said.

“Can you remember it at all?” Kravitz asked.

“A… a little.” Angus said, hovering his fingers over the keys.

Kravitz took a seat next to Angus, and nodded encouragingly.

Angus played with one hand, each note at a slow and deliberate pace.

_E G G B A B D_

Angus’ hands snapped back from the keys, and pressed into face.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no-” Angus mumbled into his palms.

Kravitz seemed startled, unsure whether he should stay next to Angus. He tapped Angus gently on the shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

“I-it’s alright, kiddo.” Kravitz stuttered.

“This is why I shouldn’t play! I messed it up! He’d be so disappointed, he worked so hard-” Angus babbled into his hands, until he felt some warm hands on his shoulders. (Suddenly the hot chocolate and scarf seemed to make sense.)

“Angus. I’m a conductor. Or, well, I wanted to be. And the thing about doing that, is that music can’t always be played perfectly. That’s not really the point. You play it the best you can.”

“I thought conductors were supposed to make it perfect.” Angus said.

“Well, then maybe there’s a reason I wasn’t a conductor.” Kravitz said with smile, playing a scale on the piano with mistimed flourish. He began playing a slow waltz, leaning up and down the keys with a casual ease.

“I’m not as good as Johan. I don’t think anyone can be. But I’ll teach you to play, if you’d like..” Kravitz said.

“You would do that? Even though I’m-” Angus was cut off by Kravitz playing a flat note and grimacing.

“Well, I’m not very good either. Imperfect teacher for an imperfect student?” Kravitz suggested, with a shrug.

Angus thought for a moment, and then began to play _E G G B A B E_ as close to the same time as Kravitz’s waltz was. It was inharmonious at points, and nonsensical others.

But that was truer to Johan’s memory than any rendition of his work.


	11. The First Driving Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive, and I bring offerings of Sloane and Hurley helping Angus with his addiction to secrecy!
> 
> No specific trauma is mentioned but be aware that it might be upsetting to people dealing with their own trauma.

Angus had secrets. This, in itself, was not surprising. He was a detective after all, secrets were his business. Many of them were harmless, secret only through lack of anyone who would care enough to learn them. His astigmatism was a secret. His dislike of overly sweet food was a secret. His choral training was a secret. Things that would not always be secrets, he hoped. (That was a secret too.)

There were other things. Bigger things, things so enormous he could not be honest about them even to himself. It was not so much a collection of secrets as it was a wall. A solid wall of a thousand diversions and “forgotten” things to obscure everything beyond it. His grandfather’s _name_ hadn’t able to escape Angus’ frantic scrubbing away at his history.

It was too much to keep within him. Too complicated to simply wipe away. It had to exist somewhere, somehow. 

So Angus told his secrets to someone who would never tell them. He told them to the tree in the middle of Goldcliff. He sat on one of the tree’s soft boughs and talked until he ran out of words.

Of all the things that had been lost on the day of Story and Song, Angus hadn’t expected the tree to be the one that finally made him cry. It was a landmark of Goldcliff, a sign of things getting better after all the damage the Gaia Sash had done. In a desert where nothing had grown but poverty, there was a great cherry blossom tree that had found root. Other flowers had begun to take root in the cracks of the bank and along the ridges that marked the battle wagon roads. When the Hunger attacked, that symbol of growth was destroyed.

Angus had put off visiting Goldcliff until the reconstruction had started. Maybe part of him had expected them to able to rebuild it. 

He hadn't known how bad the damage was. He’d deliberately avoided reports with any level of detail. Some childish part him hoped that it wouldn’t be that bad. When he turned the corner to the street he knew so well, Angus’ heart ran cold instantly.

The tree was dead. It was more than dead, it was entirely hollow. The wood was in a million splintered chips that piled around the roots, mixed with a mountain of cherry blossoms that had begun to pale and curl up. The lake had dried up completely, his feet hitting the ground with a dull tap.

Something inside Angus felt dried up to.

He made his way to the tree, cutting a path through the pale petals and dark wood chips. He placed a tentative hand on the tree, as though hoping his hand would pass straight through.

“Oh, be careful! We got out of there in kind of a hurry.” A voice called out to Angus, making him jump violently. He turned with his wand raised, the incantation for a spell on his lips fading in an instant.

There were two dryads, holding hands with their fingers entwined like ivy on a cottage door. They had once been races other than dryads, Angus noted. There was the tell tale height and curves of a halfling in the one that had just spoken.

“Please, don’t hurt yourself Angus.” The other dryad said, nervously twisting her long pink cherry blossom hair between her free fingers.

“E-excuse me ma’am, have we met?” Angus said nervously, not quite putting his wand down.

“In a sense.” The second dryad said hesitantly, earning a nudge from the first.

“I’m Hurley. And this is Sloane.” The first dryad said. “And we’ve known you for quite a while.”

It took a moment. 

“Didn’t I help you-” He pointed to Hurley. “Try and arrest you?” He pointed to Sloane.

Angus learned that dryads blush in a shade of dark green.

“Well, you were proving my innocence in an unrelated case. Captain Bane really did want to pin that dumb robbery on me-” Sloane muttered. This earned her another more playful nudge from Hurley.

“Yes, Angus. That was the first time.” Hurley said encouragingly.

“But… I didn’t visit you in Goldcliff again.” Angus said, leaving his thoughts about the fact they hadn’t been been dryads then unsaid. Hurley and Sloane shared a look.

“You did. In a way.” Sloane said, a little uncomfortable.

Angus looked at them. He looked at the tree. He looked back at them.

“Oh no.” Angus let go of his wand, and pressed his hands to his face. “Oh no, oh no.”

Hurley and Sloane seemed slightly panicked, scrambling to reassure him. They talked over each other in voices which failed to be calm.

“Don’t tell anyone! Please, please, don’t say anything, those things weren’t for anyone, not for anyone! It’s real serious, you don’t know what they’ll do if they- And if Taako hears about my- The Bureau will never let me-” Angus found ideas clashing into each other as they rushed to escape him, and he couldn’t catch his breath between them. His lungs felt like they were being fed into a vice, as though there wasn’t enough air in the world in fill them.

There was a hand on his back, warm and reassuring.

“We’re going for a drive.” Sloane said, with complete determination.

The battle wagon they had was deceptively comfortable. The gnarled rams horns and sharp raven’s wings affixed to wagon obscured a truly luxurious interior lined with flowers. Hurley held a door open for Angus, but hesitated for a moment.

“You don’t have an allergy to pollen do you?”

Angus shook his head, sniffing away tears.

“Oh thank fuck, because we can’t do shit about all the flowers and stuff.”

They all clambered in, Angus taking a spot in the back seat while Sloane and Hurley sat up front. Sloane was driving, and remembering what he had read about the mission to retrieve the Gaia Sash, Angus nervously looked for a seat belt. Hurley sighed and waved a hand in his direction. A seat belt of taut vines formed around his waist. He mumbled a thank you, and the car began to move.

They drove in silence for a while, all three watching the sand dunes that the car swept aside with ease. Once Goldcliff was nothing more than a mark on the horizon, Sloane began to speak.

“You don’t have to worry about your secrets with us.”

“Ma’am-”

“Listen. This thing has been one sided for a long time kid, and you’re gonna let me speak for a little bit, ok?” Sloane continued.

“But you didn’t ask to get dragged into this!” Angus blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Sloane thought about this for a moment. “That’s true. But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t ask to find the Gaia Sash. I didn’t ask to find Hurley. No-one asks for anything they get in this life.”

“And that includes you Angus. You didn’t ask for… any of that.” Hurley said, voice heavy with genuine compassion.

Angus pulled his knees up his chin, refusing to look at them.

“You don’t have to deal with that alone.” Hurley insisted. “I still know plenty of people at the militia who you can talk to if you want to do anything.”

“And I know plenty of battlewagon racers who’d be happy to break a few kneecaps for the right money.” Sloane said with complete sincerity. Hurley did not berate her for this comment.

“I don’t- I can’t-” Angus started sentences, but stopped them as soon as tears began to well in his eyes. He couldn’t cry over this. Not in front of them.

“We won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. By the sounds of it, no-one can.” Sloane said. “Just… do us one favour?”

Angus mumbled something in response.

“Don’t keep secrets you don’t have to.” Sloane said.

“Our whole lives were secrets. It would’ve killed us, if we hadn’t had each other.” Hurley said. “You have some wonderful people behind you. Goofballs, sure. But they love you kid, and they want to know you. Don’t hide yourself from them.”

“It’s… What if they don’t like it?” Angus mumbled into his knees, almost hoping they wouldn’t hear.

“Well, then they’ll have us to deal with.” Sloane said. “And if I remember, I kicked those boys asses pretty handily the last time.”

Angus laughed a short shout of a laugh.

“If all else fails, we can hook you up with a getaway car.” 

The rest of the drive was brighter. A whistle stop tour of the many tucked away caves and hidden treasures of the desert. Once they were far enough away from Goldcliff, they even let Angus have his first try at driving. He had a knack for the gears and complex mechanism of the battle wagon, but had trouble reaching the pedals without several dozen pillows. They set a deal that he would have a driving lesson once every two weeks, just to help him get used to the skill.

And if they happened to talk about some secrets that were no longer secret, that was just fine.


	12. The First Detention

“I have to say Angus, I’m very disappointed to see you here.” Lucas said, taking his seat on the opposite side of the desk. Angus stood politely, wringing cap in his hands. Lucas sat silently for a second, before realising Angus was waiting. He nervously waved for Angus to sit down.

Lucas was still a loser. Despite his role as the dean of one the most qualified magical schools in the world, he was still Lucas. Angus could see he was trying very hard: his tie was actually tied, as were his shoes. His hair was combed, though he still had a stubborn cowslick that refused to be flattened. He’d gotten new glasses that he continued not to remember to wear. 

“‘M sorry, Sir.” Angus mumbled as he sat down.

“What happened out there?”

Angus scrubbed at his knuckles with his hat absent mindedly. “I hit him. That was the wrong thing to do Sir, I know that.”

“So you’re going to apologise?” Lucas said in a tone that suggested he was already thinking about his next meeting.

“No.” Angus said, with total certainty. Lucas spluttered for a moment.

“But you just said you knew you did the wrong thing!”

“He was much bigger than me and a real jerk, so hitting him was a very short sighted plan. It just made him mad, when what I should’ve done was cast sleep or silence so he would stop upsetting me.” Angus said in a matter of fact voice.

Lucas looked lost for words. “Angus, that would have been wrong too.”

“Would it be more wrong than you punishing me and not the other student?” Angus asked, the picture of innocence.

“H-how did you-”

“You’re too nervous to have a meeting with me, and I’m just a little boy. You haven’t sweat through your shirt or unravelled that loose thread on your desk yet, so I don’t believe you’ve met with the student who’s twice your size.”

Lucas stuttered.

“Also your planner is open on your desk.” Angus admitted, unable to maintain his illusion of genius. It was rude to act so aloof to figures of authority.

Lucas noticed this and quickly shut the book on his desk, sliding it into his pocket.

“Angus, you hit them. I understand that you may feel isolated here, being so much younger than the other students. We’ve made a lot of efforts to avoid that, and you’re just wasting them by getting into fights. You do this again and you’re sunk!” Lucas said.

“ _A_ fight.” Angus insisted. “One hit.”

“You know the school rules Angus.”

Angus mumbled “don’t do a hit” under his breath, as sarcastically as he could muster.

“Do you… do you not want to be here?” Lucas asked.

Angus jolted in his seat. “No! No, Sir, please I want to stay here.”

“Then what is it?” Lucas said. “You do excellent work here, getting straight A’s. Why do I have more complaints about you than anyone else?”

“C-complaints?” Angus squeaked.

“Aw… I shouldn’t have said that.” Lucas moaned. He rubbed at the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair. He took a deep breath. “I’ve had a few notices about you… cheating. Or trying to elicit pity from teach-”

“I don’t! I didn’t!” Angus shouted. “I work real hard, I would never cheat! Cheaters are losers Sir! And I don’t want pity!”

“I just have to look at all the options Angus. I’m a teacher, it’s kinda what I do?” Lucas said.

“Do _you_ not want me here?” Angus asked, after a slight pause.

“What?”

“I know I don’t fit in here. Would it be easier for me to leave?”

Lucas considered this for a moment. “How about this? You tell me why you hit that guy, and then we’ll decide whether you need to leave.”

Angus hesitated for a moment. “They said something to me. Something awful.”

“So they teased you? I thought you’d have some experience with that.” Lucas said with the faintest trace of a smile.

“No Sir.” Angus said quietly. “They didn’t say it about me.”

“Was it another student?” Lucas asked.

“No. They said… they said something about my family.”

“The Bureau can take it-”

“No, Sir. Not that family.” Angus said with clipped precision.

“Oh.” Lucas said. They said nothing for a moment. “That still shouldn’t-”

“It was about my mom.” Angus said. 

“Oh.” Lucas said again, with more conviction.

“It’s stupid, I know. She died when I was really little. I never knew her.” Angus said, with a sniff. “I just couldn’t let them talk about her like that. Because they don’t know her either. They don’t have all the facts.”

Lucas ran his fingers through his hair again, tracing the line of a scar he’d received a long time ago. From an injury he’d received while his lab was engulfed in crystal, in the pursuit of seeing his own mother one more time.

“Facts are important.” Lucas admitted, absent mindedly. “We can agree on that, scientist to detective, right?”

Angus nodded, looking down at his fee.

“But rumours? Lies? Not worth our time. You shouldn’t react to that. Scientists rise above that. G-good scientists, I mean.” Lucas stumbled at the end.

“Excuse me Sir, but that’s rather unfair. Detectives don’t ignore lies. We investigate them, and eliminate them.”

“And you punch everyone who tells one?” Lucas asked. “Magnus would be a very good detective...”

Angus seemed embarrassed by this question, driven into a corner he couldn’t escape. Lucas smiled, ever so slightly.

“Here’s the deal. I want you to be here at 4pm tomorrow for detention.”

Angus looked as though he’d been sentenced to the gallows. “Sir!”

“And we’re going to spend it figuring out how best to deal with this. You’re very valuable to this school, and the last thing we need is Taako’s School of Magic-”

“Taako’s _Amazing _School of Magic, Sir.” Angus interjected.__

__“Sure.” Lucas said, unamused. “We don’t want you to end up somewhere else. Who’s gonna run all our study groups? And bring macarons to lectures?”_ _

__Angus smiled self consciously._ _

__“I like you kid. I don’t like the idea of, well, some dumb goober making you feel unwelcome. He’ll be out of here tomorrow, promise.”_ _

__“Oh I don’t want to be difficult-”_ _

__“You couldn’t be difficult if you tried Angus.” Lucas said. “Now run along, don’t be late to your… what is it today? Soccer? Ballet?”_ _

__“It’s art club today Sir.” Angus said, picking up his things from the corner. “Thank you for your time speaking with me.”_ _

__Angus went to the office door, reaching up to release the latch. Lucas made a strange choked noise, a sentence seemingly dying in his throat. Angus turned to face him with some curiosity._ _

__“A-Angus?” Lucas stuttered._ _

__“Yes Sir?”_ _

__“I’m sure your mom loved you very much. You’re a good son.”_ _

__There was a moment between the two where so much more was shared in the silence than they had ever shared with words. Angus considered this for a few seconds._ _

__“That makes two of us, Sir.” Angus said, tipping his cap to Lucas with a boyish smile._ _

__And Angus ducked out of the door._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoy! Lucas and Angus have more in common than I realised.
> 
> Next up is Paloma, as suggested by Steampunkgirl198! Still taking requests for characters if there's any that people would like to see.


	13. The First Fortune (Cookie)

Angus had been told it was something like a fairy tale. A rickety old cottage out in the woods, drawing people to the door with the promise of magic and sweet treats. Angus had never had much experience reading fairy tales, but if this is what they were like, he thought he might like them.

Angus knocked on the door politely, two sharp taps against the rough wood. Almost before the second tap was made, a elderly voice called through the door.

“Come in!”

Angus slowly opened the door. The bouquet of tulips Angus had selected carefully peeked through the gap before he did, hesitant as he was to intrude.

“In or out? You’re letting out the cookie smell.” Paloma called, with a tone that suggested she was only half joking.

Angus slipped into the cottage as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him.

“Hello ma’am, my name is-” Angus began, but he was rendered speechless. The sweet aroma that washed over him was so complex Angus could _taste_ it. The sharp tang of strawberries, the warm hearty bread, the cloying sweetness of honey. The smell felt like it worked its way through his tongue more than he nose, smacking his lips at the sudden tackiness in his mouth. Paloma noted this from her place at the kitchen counter with a smile.

The house was that of a witch. It had never occurred to Angus just how much a witch’s home and a baker’s home would have in common. Sprigs of fresh spice were pinned to walls and ceiling in a seemingly random pattern, the delicious and deadly hanging side by side. Pots, bowls and glass jugs were set everywhere in various stages of use: some bubbled over with soap suds, while others bubbled over with churning potions. Paloma wiped her flour covered hands on the front of her apron. There were smudges all over it, nearly obscuring the aprons design of magic eight balls with the phrase “Chose the path of yeast resistance” on it. She approached the long dining table that stood between her and Angus, which was groaning under the weight of baking and potions.

“It’s good, yes? Would you like a blueberry muffin? Fresh from the oven.” Paloma offered, holding up a plate of treats with faint wisps of steam rising from them. 

“No thank you ma’am.” Angus said, crossing the room to meet her. He handed her the flowers. “These are for you.”

“Oh, how sweet. You’re much better behaved than the other boys were. Though you certainly need feeding more than them.” Paloma said, looking carefully at her flowers and picking at the petals to make sure they were neat.

“Oh, thank you.” Angus said sweetly. “Would you like me to find a vase for those?”

“There’s no need, dear, I’ve got it.” Paloma poured out some egg whites from a jug, rinsed it with water, and placed the flowers in it. She put them squarely in the middle of the dining table.

“You after big prophecy or small prophecy?” She said, without looking back at him.

Angus blushed. “I-”

“I wasn’t… how you say… born yesterday? I don’t get flowers in the desert unless someone wants something, yes?"

Angus nodded. “I would like a prophecy, please.”

“What about?” Paloma asked, still not looking at Angus.

“The future?” Angus asked, nervously.

“Well, I don’t do prophecies about the past.” Paloma said, turning to him with a vague smile. Angus blushed hard. “What about the future? Love? Money? Fame?”

“I, uh… Am I ok? In the future I mean?” Angus asked, playing with his fingers. “Are my friends ok? I keep… dreaming, that I mess up. That they get hurt, or something, and I just need to know… How can I stop that? I’m real worried that I’m not doing enough, or that there’s something I need to change, and - oh.”

Angus came to an abrupt stop as Paloma took his hands in hers - they were warm, like cookies - and lead him to the table. She didn’t let go of his hands, opening up his palms as they sat opposite one another at the table. She looked closely at his hands, running a single finger along the creases in Angus’ palms.

“Interesting…” She said at length, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

“Wh-what is it?” Angus asked, leaning forward to look closer at his palms. Paloma placed a single finger on his forehead and gently pushed him to sit back in his chair.

“You work too hard. Your nails are damaged quite badly.” She said, with a wry smile.

“If you don’t want to help…” Angus said, trying to pull his hands away. Paloma traced a long line along his palm.

“Your love line is deep. Love is a big deal in your future. A bit uneven, but we can guess why, yes?”

Angus shrugged, fully enthralled.

“Those boys in your family. Not straightforward with love. Your line even says so.” Paloma said, and Angus found himself nodding in agreement.

“An intuition line on your left, but not your right.” Paloma looked up at Angus. “Not always been public about that big brain you’ve got, Angus?”

Angus shifted uncomfortable. “That’s the past ma’am, that’s not why I’m here.”

“All ingredients to Angus soup, yes? Need to know the past to see the future.”

“The future, please.” Angus said, with a tinge of desperation.

Paloma sighed. She looked back to his palm. And she frowned.

“What, what is it?” Angus asked, leaning in to look at his hand again.

“It’s your fate line.” Paloma said.

“Is something wrong?” Angus squeaked. 

“Come closer. Have a look.” She released Angus’ hands, allowing him look closer. He raised his hands up to his face. “It’s the line across the middle of your hand.”

“I don’t… I don’t see…” Angus said, squinting at his hands. He raised them closer to his eyes, closer…

Paloma, with a deftness unseen in women her age, dumped a bowl of batter over Angus’ head, coating his face and hands in soft dough. Angus spluttered in surprise, barely registering Paloma’s wicked laugh as he carefully took his glasses off and tried to polish them on dough soaked sleeves.

“That was mean goof ma’am!” Angus said, trying to wipe dough from his face.

“No meaner than the one you’re playing on yourself. Future, past… It all just happens. Not a thing we should worry about.”

“How can you say that? You tell the future!” Angus interjected, a little angrier than he thought he was.

“I did.” Paloma waved to the ceiling above her. Angus realised there was not a single crystal hanging above them, her usual fortune telling method long since shattered and lost. “But that was the past. I bake now. I am real good at it, I make something new everyday.”

“But…” Angus stumbled on his thought. “Doesn’t that scare you? To not what you’re making tomorrow?”

“A little.” Paloma admitted. “But that’s what makes it fun.”

She handed Angus a towel. He wiped at his face, rubbing at his eyes tightly. When he lowered the towel, a plate of cookies sat on the table in front of him.

“If I cannot give you a fortune, I can give you a cookie, yes?” Paloma said, with a smile.

Angus slowly took a cookie from the plate. “Are you sure you can’t tell me anything, ma’am?”

Paloma crossed her arms. “You had no fate line. It’s up to you, the future. Best way to be, I think.”

Angus took a bite out of the cookie. It was warm and sweet and filing in a way that felt like something of a consolation. It was too much to know there would be a happy ending, he supposed. After all, this wasn’t like a fairy tale. Maybe he wouldn’t like fairy tales all that much after all, if he knew how they were supposed to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As requested, Paloma is here. Avi and Roswell are planned, though other suggestions are still welcome as always.


End file.
